


In Excess

by laconicisms



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Community: blindfold_spn, Incest, M/M, Watersports, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-25
Updated: 2011-01-25
Packaged: 2017-10-17 00:55:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/171155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/laconicisms/pseuds/laconicisms
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soulless!Sam forces Dean to drink a lot of water and then hold it.  Dean's trying not to beg, but the pressure on his bladder is getting  painful. Then Sam takes him for a nice, long, drive...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Excess

**Author's Note:**

> Written in January for [this blindfold prompt](http://community.livejournal.com/blindfold_spn/3417.html?thread=3707481#t3707481).

He still has that thirst, the one given to him by the vampire. It's not a thirst for blood exactly; it's just that no matter how much Dean drinks, his throat just keeps on feeling dry and parched, and his body screams for more, more, more.

He mentions it to Sam at one point. Well, actually, he shouts it out and blames Sam, because Sam is fucking to blame for the whole fucking thing.

Sam says it's all in his mind. He also says he has a cure. Dean tells him that he's willing to try anything. (At that point, he really thinks he is.)

That may have been a mistake.

-

Sam comes back from the store with a galleon of water and a beatific expression – the one that screams "I have no emotions, I'm just faking being nice for you."

"I tried that already," Dean says with a nod in the direction of the water bottles.

"No, you haven't," Sam replies, grabbing the first bottle and opening it. "Sit down on that chair."

Dean lets himself drop onto the chair and crosses his arms. A second later Sam is sitting on his lap, facing him.

"You wanna play-" Dean begins, but Sam grabs his jaw, forces his head back and puts the bottle to Dean's lips. Dean chokes and splutters, hands going towards Sam's wrists, trying to force his hands away. Sam's become super-strong or something in the year he was gone because Dean can't fucking budge him. There's no choice but to swallow – which his thirst isn't really protesting. Fucking dammit.

Dean drains the whole bottle, moaning when Sam throws it away. He lets go of Dean's jaw and bends down and to the right, reaching for the next bottle. The cap is quickly flung away and this time Sam buries his hand in Dean's hair, pulling slightly. "You gonna be good or do I have to use force?"

Dean licks his lips. His throat still feels parched and lets him know that it would like some more water, stat. "I'll be good."

Sam raises the bottle.

By the time his brother has deemed him sufficiently watered – Sam's words, fucking honestly, Dean's not a horse – Dean's bladder is screaming at him, he feels fucking sick from all the water sloshing around in his stomach, and his throat is. Still. Dry.

"It's not working."

"We're not done."

"Yes, we are. I can't take more."

Sam leans forward, breath ghosting over Dean's lips and whispers, "I know." Then he presses his hand against Dean's bladder.

Dean whimpers. "Sam. Please."

"There's just one more part to it."

"What?" Dean asks. God, he can't. Can't.

But he can't live with that fucking thirst either.

Sam stands up and holds out a hand. "Come with me."

Dean does.

-

The Impala is gleaming black in the sun. Dean has a lot of time to notice because he's walking rather carefully. The temperature is warm, but not really hot. Still, Dean is sweating like a pig with the effort of not pissing his pants.

Sam holds the door to the shotgun seat open for him. Dean starts to wonder if Sam's trying to make him piss in the car or something, and that so won't happen. Ever.

"It's just a short drive," Sam says when Dean hesitates before the door.

"How long?"

"Not long."

"Fine." He gets in. Carefully. Sam closes the door and jogs around to the other side.

"Seatbelt," Sam grunts as he settles into the driver's seat.

"What?"

"Seatbelt."

 _You've got to be kidding me._ Dean reaches for the belt, pulling it over his body and giving it enough slack, that it doesn't press anywhere it shouldn't. There's a click as he closes it. "Now, can we get a move on already?"

"Sure," Sam says and starts the engine. He pulls out of the parking lot and onto the highway running past the cheap motel they're staying in. Dean doesn't say anything for a whole two minutes. He's proud of himself.

"Sam. How much longer?"

Sam ignores him entirely, so Dean tries again. His bladder feels like it's going to burst any second now.

"Till it works," Sam finally replies.

Oh, Jesus fuck, no, Dean thinks. "Sam, stop the car."

"No."

"Sam!" But that soulless son of a bitch isn't stopping the goddamn car, and Dean can't fucking make him, and he's not pissing the Impala. Or out the window, and fuck, fuck, _fuck!_

"Sam, stop, please," Dean groans. Hands scrabbling for something to hold onto, teeth biting into his lip for some goddamn distraction. " _Please._ " Oh, god. God.

It's taking fucking ages till Sam finally pulls over. Dean almost doesn't notice, because all he can think about is his fucking bladder. Then he hears the sound of a door opening and closing, and he scrambles to opening the seatbelt, but his fingers are like giant sausages or something because he cannot get the fucking thing open. A moment later, Sam's leaning over him, batting his hand away and the belt is pulled back and away.

Dean almost breaks Sam's nose in his attempt to get out. He's barely out of the car before he's pulling down his pants, not giving a fucking damn who's watching, and starts pissing.

It's the best feeling in the whole fucking world.

"So," Sam says from behind him, one arm going around Dean's middle, the other covering his own right arm and hand. Sam's taking care not to touch Dean's cock, though, and Dean's...not exactly clear how he feels about that, and he doesn't actually care, anyway, right now. He doesn't care about anything but the relief he's feeling. "You still thirsty?"

Dean blinks. No, he isn't. At all. He shakes his head, and Sam kisses the back of his neck.

"See, I told you I could cure you."


End file.
